


Raindrops

by BardofHeartDive



Series: Tumblr Posts [7]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Colonist (Mass Effect), Flash Fic, Gen, Pre-Mass Effect 1, Pre-Mindoir, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardofHeartDive/pseuds/BardofHeartDive
Summary: Rain makes people nostalgic. For meflashfanwork’s November theme, “Rain,” on tumblr.





	

I am only halfway through the pile of budgets, proposals, applications, and reports but I stop when the rain starts. We have nasty storms this time of year, but tonight is relatively calm. Besides an occasional roll of thunder in the distance the only sign of the weather is the gentle drumming on the roof. A gust of wind greets me when I open the front door but it’s pleasantly cool and I stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

The house, like most of the buildings on Mindoir, is a prefab with enough modifications and additions to make it unique. Hana was the one who wanted the porch, and the one who built most of it, but it’s been the setting for many of my favorite memories. Lightning strikes out past Les Noires and I see one of them in the flash: a younger version of myself playing the guitar for a girl in a nightgown. Teaching her not to be afraid of storms.

“Papa?”

It’s easy to imagine the voice is part of the memory but when I turn to look at my daughter she is sixteen, not six. Seventeen next week, I remind myself with mix of pride and disbelief. And while she’ll always be my little girl, it thrills me every day to see a little more of the woman she’s becoming.

Still, the rain has me sentimental, so I can’t help but use an old nickname.

“Hi, princess. Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head and my guitar appears from under the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Apparently I am not the only one feeling nostalgic tonight.

I take it, then follow her onto the porch. We sit, me on a stool, her on the deck itself, and after a quick tune up I start strumming.

“Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head. And just like the guy whose feet were too big for his bed, nothin’ seems to fit. Those raindrops keep fallin’ on my head. They keep fallin’ . . . ”


End file.
